No Mail
by StylusDez
Summary: Decided to write a fanfic on one of my favorite romantic comedies. This is a in depth perspective starting off when Kathleen's and Joe's relationship first gets turbulent. Love isnt love unless you hurt someone, R&R Please it keeps me writing!
1. Kathleen's View

You are nothing but a suit

"You are nothing but a suit," said Kathleen in harsh voice.

Everything just got quiet then. Time seemed to slow down as Joe just stared back at her and blinked. Kathleen leaned back in her chair looking him up and down quickly trying to gauge his reaction. He took a slow breath and arched up his eyebrows as if to say, well that was nice. Slowly he put his hand into his pocket pulling out some change. He looked down shyly as he tossed the money on the table.

"That's my queue," he said very softly.

He was still looking down Kathleen noticed. He then looked into her eyes for a brief second. They were moist and she could see pain in them for a brief moment. Then they flashed back down as he said, "Well goodnight," in a sarcastic and bitter tone. Kathleen stood there. Her mouth was dry and her heart pounding as she watched him walk brusquely out the door. Her brain was saying wait, come back, and I'm sorry, but nothing came out. She felt her eyes tear up as she just watched him go out the door. She leaned back and shook her head trying to convince herself that he deserved all her battery. I mean he is a jerk who doesn't care about books and is trying to put me out of business. But at the same time he is a person, a person I just hurt. Great, now I'm going to feel bad about being stood up and about being mean. She glanced down and saw Joe had left enough to cover her tab as well.

She grabbed her book and rose as she slowly got up. She went into the street and noticed how cold of a night it actually was. Before she was so nervous about meeting this guy she barely knew that she didn't feel the cold. Now that her night was ruined in every way, her defenses felt the lonely cold wind hug her skin. She walked toward a trash can and dropped the rose in. She didn't even watch it drop in as she marched toward her apartment. He probably left a message; it's probably a legitimate excuse, nothing to worry about.

She kept marching through the cold, hearing nothing but her footsteps tap on the wet sidewalks of New York. The trip home seemed to take a lot longer then usual, as her mind kept jumping back and forth from thinking that it is going to be alright to everything is going wrong. She tried to prepare herself if there was no message, but at the same time thought there is no need because he left one; he wouldn't do something like that.

Before she opened her front door she thought of Joe Fox for a weird reason. Joe Fox, what an asshole she thought. But he was actually trying to be nice for a little while. But I just kept attacking him, was it because he didn't show? I don't know, all I want to do is check my mail. She walked into her warm apartment but she didn't even notice the warmth. She went straight for her computer. Scenes of New York's beautiful nightscape showed on her screen saver. She loved watching these images fade in and out as she realized that it was right outside her window. Now she just wanted them to hurry up and disappear. She signed in and waited for what seemed forever. At the same time she hoped that it wouldn't load and she would not know whether or not the message was there. But she knew that she wanted to know either way, hoping that it was there.

Finally it signed on, she noticed the mail box's red tag was down but thought that it might just be a fluke. She scrolled the mouse to the button and opened her mail box to see two words flash like beacons on the screen. NO MAIL. Below it, it said ok in a gray box. She thought, no this is not okay. She looked down at the screen feeling like she was going to cry right there. Her eyes welled up with water and were about to overflow. But she suddenly forced a sly smile as if someone was watching her and she didn't want to lose her composure. Her eyebrow arched up and she thought, whatever I don't care. She closed her laptop quickly and walked immediately to bed.

She flopped down and didn't even take her clothes off. She kicked her shoes off and turned off the light hoping she could just go into a coma right there. She pulled the blankets over her as she grew cold from loneliness. The last thing she thought was I'm tired and she hoped she could not think and go to bed. It was her defense mechanism to shut down before she felt her heart break. That would have to wait until the morning.


	2. Joe's View

Ch 2. Joe's Perspective

"You are nothing but a suit," She said in a disgusted voice.

That made Joe blink a couple times. He had this weird wrenching feeling in the pit of his stomach that he only felt once of twice before in his life. It was hurt. It puzzled him as he continued to stare at this woman in front of him that said insult after insult. He thought back in a flash all the crap she said of how he was so unlike this Mr. Perfect she described, not knowing it was really him.

He tried to think about something witty to say in return, but he drew a blank as he arched his eyebrow. He found his arm reach into his pocket and quickly fumbled money out of his clip. His eyes darted down from hers quickly and stared at the floor. Funny to think of the mighty Joe Fox cowed by such a comment. But Joe simply wanted to leave that table, that room, that street, and get as far away from that feeling as he could.

"That's my queue," he said softly as he found the money. He had a questioning look on his face as he thought about his reaction. He sighed inwardly as he turned to get up.

"Well, goodnight," he said in a sarcastic voice. His bitterness then spread to his demeanor as he brusquely threw the money down, put his coat on, and walked out the café as fast he could. He didn't turn back.

He shoved the door open and stormed out into the cold street. His step increased as he raced home pissed off. At her or yourself, he thought. Good going though Joe, great way to flirt with her, push her until she calls you a suit. What did she mean by that anyway? How could she say I was nothing like that guy! I am him, how the hell can I not be like him!

Then Joe remembered something he said, "Well he's not here," in a sneering voice. Maybe he wasn't. The street noises seemed to be dead compared to when he was walking toward the café. He remembered how excited and anxious he was. It was like high school prom all over again. Now a days nothing really got his heart pounding like this, like her.

Just fifteen minutes ago I was ready to marry this girl, now I find out she's Kathleen Kelly and that she actually hates my guts. And I feel…how do I feel? I'm nothing but a suit… Joe laughed inside at the thought of all the insults that was the one that made him get up and leave. And even though he seemed to be running away from that feeling, it seemed to follow him out in the streets of New York and embrace him like the cold air.

His pace slowed as he walked silently with his head hung low. Joe never had his head low; he always had the confidence of the successful business man he was. Now he was hurt and sad. Two feelings he rarely knew, and he didn't know what to do with himself. Usually the very decisive one, he didn't know what to do. Well its cold, I might as well go home.

He walked slowly toward his home, replaying the incident in his mind over and over again. And as always that little sentence caused that tight knot in his stomach, he didn't even really get what she meant. A suit? What the hell is that suppose to mean. He was a mixture of anger and remorse as he entered his apartment.

He couldn't hide the discomfort as he entered the room. "What's wrong?" his girlfriend asked in a dead pan voice as she glanced up from her magazine.

"Nothing," Joe said. She simply shrugged and went on with her day, "Oh, you'll never guess who I ran into today…" Joe didn't hear her as he walked over to his closet passing his open lap top on his desk. He took off his coat and tie placing them in his closet. He paused and looked at all his suits neatly in a row. Her complaints murmured in the background as he closed the door slowly.

He glanced at the lap top and thought about writing Kathleen, maybe an explanation or an apology. But nothing came to mind, not even the first sentence. He didn't even know if he wanted to yell, curse at her, or beg for forgiveness.

"I'm going to bed, I've had a long day," Joe said as he walked into the bedroom. She didn't glance up from her magazine as she said Ok. He got undressed and laid in bed, tossing and turning. He was drained but couldn't sleep. All he could do was replay the scene as if he was watching a movie, trying to unravel the plot.

The same sentence echoed in his brain, so much that it hurt to think about it and all he wanted to do was stop feeling anxious and turn off his brain. A suit, a piece of clothing. Just a piece of clothing that embodies a businessman. Usually when Joe used the term he meant lawyers or those yes men that he had to deal with at board meetings. It was always demeaning in nature.

Joe stopped tossing and stared at the ceiling and asked the question he was avoiding all night long. Do I even know who I am, if she can call me that and at the same time be in love with this other guy, who is suppose to be me, maybe I'm not the guy she thinks I am. He wasn't there though, I was. And she hated me; I was nothing but a suit to her. That realization made Joe angry at himself and at her. How could this get this screwed up!

Finally he felt himself drift into exhaustion from thinking about the subject. He ran around in mental circles and began where he was when he left the café, confused and angry. Before he fell into a dreamless, restless sleep, he thought, am I really just a suit?


	3. Its not personal, its business

Ch. 3 It's not personal, its business

Joe woke up in a sweat. He turned his head quickly and saw the blurred image of his alarm clock come into focus. It told him it was 4:00 AM as it blinked silently in the darkened bedroom. He turned and silently moaned inside himself. It would be another 4 hours before he even had to think about getting up. He had been tossing and turning all night and couldn't get rid of this aching feeling from the pit of his stomach. It reminded him of when he first started off in his father's business and was doing very poorly.

He was fresh out of business school armed with his bachelor's in business administration with honors. He basically coasted his senior year because he knew he had a position lined up for him in his father's business. So he basically relaxed and looked forward to the day his ambition could be forged into success. But he didn't realize the struggle it would take to get there.

He was placed as an assistant to a high level regional manager in the North East part of America to learn the trade. Back then Fox Books was still competing with several large competitors and did not have the dominant stronghold of the market that it had now. He was way over his head. College did not teach him what was needed. His naivety and innocence would soon have to be sacrificed to make room for ruthlessness. Joe had been a nice guy most his life, he believed what the textbooks said about business ethics and thought he knew what right and wrong was.

But that line would be blurred by infinite lines of gray and loop holes that were taken to get even the slightest edge. Price cutting, calculated book shipments to flood the market and drop prices so low only they could afford it causing small book stores to be forced out, back room deals to cause shipping problems for competitors, and the buying out of competition. Some deals were illegal; some would be viewed as unethical by many. But it would seem the industry of books were as ruthless as some of the gangster novels they were selling.

It was from this schooling that Joe adopted the maxim that it was business, not personal. Personally Joe had a very hard time swallowing the realities of the world. He would often spend countless nights tossing and turning with the same sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, the thought that things were falling apart and out of his control. Back then it was because he felt so inept to carry his tasks out, due to lack of everything, and the crushing weight of the real world was collapsing his idealism. It was almost too much to bear.

Eventually Joe would learn to accept realities, though he didn't take part in illegal activities, there were times when he crossed the gray lines and he found that it got easier to do so with time. The line between right or wrong was there but there were gray lines of business, not the solid lines of personal matters. Small businesses would be bought out, jobs would be lost, people would be cut, people would be let go, and business would get done because that's what it is, business not personal. After following that mantra, soon that feeling would go away and his success grew.

Joe would become a great businessman, ruthless and cunning, able to defeat competitor after competitor and get Fox Books to the giant that it was. But now none of that mattered. He couldn't say it was just business, he felt like he was that kid fresh out of college not knowing what the hell was going on. It was personal, everything she said was personal, and everything I did business wise affected her personally. For once his mantra didn't put his mind at ease. It was personal, and that is why I am nothing but a suit. That's all I wanted to see, just the business side. But now, it's personal. That's all Joe could think as the pain in his stomach continued to torture him as he couldn't sleep.

It seemed like things weren't going right at all for the second time in his life, and it was one of the longest nights of his life.


	4. The dasies seem dull today

Ch. 4

The daisies seemed dull today. The light sneaking past the shades seemed dimmer then usual. The coffee seemed to grow colder much faster. The bed was inviting and the day shunned Kathleen. Sleep was a rare commodity last night. She kept tossing and turning in her eveningwear. She even got up to change even though she was exhausted. She was exhausted to the point she couldn't sleep. She was dreading the inevitable, the heart break.

And the heartbreak over someone she hasn't even met! She was stood up on her first date, how pathetic! And when she saw that there was no explanation of why, that was the straw that made her world fall apart around her. And even though she felt she was being silly being hurt by a guy she has never met, she could not deny the ache in her chest, the stale taste in her mouth, and the emptiness of the day.

Even though the day wasn't gray it felt like it was. As she grabbed her coat it felt like a chore. She walked out and walked the same path she did everyday. Anything would have been better then nothing. A simple sorry couldn't make it, a lame excuse. Anything but nothing, because with nothing you assume everything. And that was all she did last night.

Was I not pretty enough? Did he see me and run away? Did I come on to strong? Should I have waited? I should have waited…I should have got to know him so more. But I thought I knew him so well and then he does something like this…did I know him at all in the first place? Should I write back…That last question never got answered in her head. She would just keep asking it as if someone else would answer it.

The walk was cold and long. She just imagined how it would be if things went right last night. Then the flowers would be in bloom, her smile out and bright. The leaves would fall like snow and the sun would shine. Pools of water on the street would paint monumental skylines in their reflections and the mosaic of people would roar with the symphony of noises left in wake of all of the city's activities. New York would be alive and beautiful.

Instead it was concrete, people, and noise. Kathleen was the saddest at that thought; nothing has ever made her feel that way about New York before…


	5. Good morning Sir

"Good morning Sir, right now the construction is about seventy five percent complete. The estimated completion date is in about six weeks. We have had some delays but we are confident we are over the big hurdles and …"

The words blurred into the background noise. The air-conditioning was blowing softly. Chairs were squeaking as caffeinated bodies swiveled in them. Coughs and grunts. All these seemed to deafen the brief that Joe was ignoring. Usually he is fully engaged, hearing every word. He is quick with questions that delve into the matter at hand. He forces plans to be considered and formulated. He dictates the flow and direction the project must take. He takes charge. He was great at it, and he loved it.

But today was different. Today there was no charge. He was bored, sighing uncontrollably through the brief. It made the presenter nervous and he began to stammer through the rest of his progress report. At the head of the table, Joe was staring beyond the PowerPoint presentation in front of him. The blades of light from the shades to the side of him caught his eye, revealing razor thin visions of the cityscape beyond.

"…so, um, with the delays, the extra cost of labor will, um, add about twelve percent more cost to the original projection. Um we hope to counter that costs with the, ah, savings from acquiring the neighborhood's local book store's stocks at a discounted price when they have to liquidate as we have start to take more of the market…"

"Thank you Hank, that will be enough," interrupted Joe.

"Oh, ah yes sir."

"Let's cut this meeting short, anyone have anything else." All the suits gave a blank stare at him.

"Ok then, thank you." Everyone began to get up and exit the room. Joe remained. The last person shut the door with a puzzled look on his face. Joe didn't even look at him. He remained there thinking of one thought over and over. _You are nothing but a suit_. He stared at the mahogany table, its reflection so clear it was like a mirror. And staring back was a distorted image of himself. It was the first meeting he had ever cut short. It was the first time he couldn't stand to be in a meeting.

_You're nothing but a suit. _He couldn't shake that thought. It was the first thing he thought of when he got up in the morning. The weight of it seemed to drag the entire day down with it. He never recovered from it and it seemed the rest of the day was going to get worse.

How was he going to recover? What are you going to tell her? I knew it! I should have never agreed to meet her! I screwed it all up…nothing will be the same. All I can hope for now is an awkward goodbye. That is if she would even reply back to me. Would I? His heart quickened with that thought…he just didn't know what to do.


	6. Anxiety

Chapter 6 Anxiety

"He stood you up!?" Birdie said in a shocking tone.

Kathleen Kelly threw her hands in the air after hearing that phrase for what seemed like the hundredth time. She walked toward a stack of books that needed to be organized. She planted them on a bookshelf facing the window looking outside into the street. It was early morning, the dew still speckled across the window. The street was full of pedestrians looking ahead; busy with their lives. Kathleen was mindlessly moving books around staring at the covers. Her heart was racing, and her hands just kept moving books around. She was not organizing anything, just moving books from one place to another, shuffling them around, anything to keep her hands moving.

The anxiety was palpable. It was in the pit of her stomach, the core of her heart. Though she just spent the past fifteen minutes creating insane scenarios to justify his absence, the truth seemed to be bearing down on her. She was stood up…she danced around that thought trying to ignore it. But the truth weighed down on her like a storm. _I was stood up_…

A stern frown forced its way on her face as she thought of that notion. Her hands had stopped moving. A book was staring back at her but she did not pay it any attention. She stared through it with thoughts racing as they did last night. _Was I not pretty enough, did I come on too strong, was he ever interested in me, or did I see something that obviously was not there…_

With the absence of any hard answers comes the paranoia of all sorts of anxious reasoning to fill that void. And since no one was there to answer those questions people tend to answer those questions themselves. In those cases they always tend to be the worst case answers, fueled by insecurities. These insecurities of inadequacy and fear of loneliness were answering Kathleen's questions. Her biggest insecure thought was the fact that something she thought was special now seems to be not special.

She thought she felt a connection, something that makes the ordinary and mundane extra ordinary. Regular experiences were heightened because of her correspondence with this stranger. New York was never so alive, everything seemed to transcend to a new level. Everything was blooming into something beautiful, even the smell of scotch tape! All because of the feeling she got from reading and writing mail to this person.

Now that magic faded. All those experiences were revealed to be what they really were without that spice of inspiration, they transformed back into the mundane. That is what hurt the most that…not the fact that it was gone but the fact that it may have not existed in the first place.

_It must have been because I don't see why else he wouldn't show up, he did not feel the same way as I did, it didn't mean as much. That's if it even meant anything to him at all in the first place...it probably be better if we never tried to meet, then at least I would still have something to believe in..._

"Are you alright my dear?" Birdie asked.

"Um yeah, sorry I was just thinking about something. I'll be back I have to go to the bathroom."

Kathleen quickly scurried off into the street since the shop did not have a bathroom. Everyone just used the one in one of the restaurants around the corner. She blended in with the crowd wanting to be alone in it. She seemed to be a pace behind the rest of the city because everyone was passing a head of her. She looked slightly down and walked in a defeated fashion. She just couldn't get rid of this bleak feeling, this emptiness in her heart. She went into the restaurant and quietly went into the restroom.

Normally she would chat with some of the waitresses she happened to be acquaintances with. They would chat about books and quickly surmise what was new in their lives. But today she didn't want to look anyone in the eyes; she didn't want to give any invitations to conversation. She wanted to be alone…she was successful not getting anyone to notice she was there, mostly by keeping her head down.

She rushed in and went inside on of the stalls and closed the door. She slowly sat down and sighed as she stared at the white door in front of her. Her face contorted as the corners of her mouth formed a frown. She closed her eyes tightly. She then began to cry silently… 


End file.
